


unsteady

by almond_blossoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hospitals, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mention of Minor Character Death, Nerve Damage, Protective Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26703139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almond_blossoms/pseuds/almond_blossoms
Summary: It was when they cut his shirt open and threw it away, that Steve choked on his own spit. Tony’s arms were… not right. They didn’t look broken. More like someone had gone to town on them with a meat tenderizer.His hands.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 114





	unsteady

“Steve. How long have you been here?”

Without looking away from Tony or letting go of his hand, he answered. “The whole time.”

“That’s two days, you need to take care of yourself. Just a couple hours. I’ll sit with him.”

“No.”

“He’s stable. He’ll wake up, he’s okay.”

“I _have_ to be here when he wakes up, Nat. I just have to. Doctors said anytime now, so I’m not leaving.”

She sighed. There was no use in trying, really. “Okay. I’ll get you some food.”

“Thanks.” He rubbed a hand over his face, and then went back to looking at Tony. He was covered in bandages, and there were wires all over. They’d both been the one sitting by the other’s hospital bed, but this was bad. In a way, Steve wanted Tony to stay asleep. At least he wouldn’t have to watch him receive the news about his hands.

* * *

_“That building’s not gonna hold, Iron Man, get outta there!” Steve yelled through the comms, sounding more desperate than intended, all the while fighting off aliens on his own._

_“Negative, there’s someone in here,” was Tony’s response, who’d muted FRIDAY. She was just telling him the same thing as Steve._

_“Out! Now!” Steve grunted as he took a hit to his chest, eyes flitting over to the building more than they should mid-fight._

_“Cap’s got a point, Iron Man, get out,” Clint agreed, having eyes on the building from a nearby rooftop._

_“I see them! I see them, I’m coming out,” Tony informed them. “Three civilians, all--” A startled yell, and then there was silence._

_“Iron Man? Iron Man, come in! Answer me, Tony! Are you--” He heard the rumble before he saw it; concrete cracking and crumbling, creating a cloud of dust so he couldn’t see anything, he couldn’t see Tony. What Tony was crushed under. With newfound vigor, he took down the remaining three creatures close to him. “I have to find him, I have to-- I have to find Tony.” He didn’t realize he was talking out loud._

_“Cap, you gotta wait. I’m sorry, but we have to-- ugh! We have to wrap this up, and then we can all go in. It’s not safe,” Natasha spoke clearly, and he knew she was right, but it wasn’t just someone in there. It was Tony._

_“FRIDAY? Status on Tony?” Steve asked shakily, heart beating out of his chest._

_“Offline, Captain, I can’t get anything on him.”_

* * *

“I don’t know if you can hear me, baby, but I love you. I’m right here, and I love you, and I really just wanna see your eyes right now. And hear your voice. You’re gonna be alright. You always are,” he mumbled, having scooched his chair so he could rest his head next to Tony’s. It’d only been two days, but it felt so much longer. Upon hearing Natasha return with some food, he slowly sat up.

“I hope sandwiches are alright,” she said, carrying a tray with at least ten of them. At the sight, Steve realized he was hungrier than he thought.

“Sandwiches are great. Thanks,” he smiled. “Are you staying?”

“That was the plan, yeah.” She sat down in the chair on the other side of Tony’s bed after Steve had grabbed a sandwich off of the tray, which she put down on the overbed table next to her.

“Good.”

She hummed in agreement, and they ate in silence. She wasn’t about to pressure Steve into talking, and he was grateful. It was nice with some company. People thought Natasha was just an emotionless assassin, but those close to her knew that was so far from the truth. She always seemed to know what to say. And sometimes, more importantly, what not to say.

“Proposition for you.” She broke the silence after Steve had eaten five sandwiches.

“Listening,” Steve said with a raised eyebrow.

“I stay here. You take a nap in that chair, and I’ll wake you if he even so much as twitches his nose.”

“That’s… reasonable.” Because he really was tired. And he’d be right there. And she’d wake him if anything happened. The chair wasn’t very comfortable, but he’d slept in worse places.

If she was surprised at how little it took for him to agree, she didn’t show it.

* * *

_“I see him! I see-- I’ve got visual on his hand,” Clint announced, and they all moved as quickly as they could through the rubble to get to him. “Slowly,” he told them when they got close. “It could shift, end up crushing him even more, so move slow.”_

_Steve made a big circle to make sure he didn’t make anything worse to get to where Clint was standing. “Hulk. Help me get this off him. Gently, okay?” Steve commanded, trying to keep his cool._

_“Hulk help,” he agreed, and picked up the biggest piece of rubble together with Steve, which they gently put down a few feet away. Two more of those, and they could almost see the entire Iron Man suit. The last few pieces, Steve got away by himself._

_“Oh, god,” Steve whispered, taking in how battered his armor was. “Oh my god,” he panted, and started tearing at the suit. It was offline, and he had to get it off because Tony was in there, and he didn’t know if he was-- Despite his rising panic, he got the faceplate off gently, and Tony looked like he was sleeping. Sure, battered and bruised, but he looked like he was sleeping. He leaned down, cheek hovering over Tony’s face._

_The warm little puff he felt was like heaven. “He’s breathing,” he choked out._

* * *

It wasn’t even an hour later, when he was woken back up by Natasha nudging him, and quietly calling his name. He blinked harshly once before straightening up to look at Tony.

“He’s been stirring for half a minute now. I’ll go get a doctor,” Natasha informed him, and left the room.

Steve’s attention was purely on Tony. “Hey, you can do it. Come on, you can wake up. I’m right here, you’re safe, okay? Come on, baby,” he encouraged him quietly while stroking his cheek. Tony let out a low groan, and nuzzled against Steve’s hand. “Yeah, that’s it, honey,” Steve smiled, kissing his forehead.

When Tony opened his eyes, they looked glazed over. Probably from all the pain meds they were pumping into him. “There you are,” Steve cooed, still cupping Tony’s cheek as he tried to get his bearings.

“Steve,” he croaked.

“Yeah, baby,” he confirmed, and kissed his forehead again. “I’m here.” Neither noticed Natasha and a doctor entering the room.

“Good to see you awake, Mr. Stark,” a middle-aged woman with a chart in her hand said. Steve sat up, but kept a comforting hand on Tony’s arm. “I’m Doctor Walker. How’re you feeling?”

“Hmm. Uh-- thirsty,” he realized when his throat felt scratchy as he tried to speak. Without any further prompting, Steve grabbed his own water bottle from earlier, and helped Tony take a few small sips. Clearing his throat, Tony tried again. “Been better,” he groaned, closing his eyes against the bright lights.

“Could we make it a little less bright in here, doc?” Steve requested, to which the doctor simply turned off all the lights in the room. There was enough natural light coming from outside.

“Head hurt?” she asked, walking over to check on the machines around him.

“Yeah, it’s-- it’s not as bad as a migraine, but I can feel it, for sure.” He lifted a hand to scratch at his forehead, and was startled when he felt his own fingertips tapping rapidly against his face when he got close. His hand was… shaking? “My hand…” he trailed off, opening his eyes to look at it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hold it still. He looked confused, and raised his other hand to find that one trembling as well. “No, what…”

* * *

_“Fucking hell, he’s crushed in there,” Steve grunted, putting his all into getting the suit off of Tony’s body so they could get him to medical. “Is there a car waiting?” he asked, prying away the thick plating around Tony’s thigh._

_“Yeah, ambulance ready to take you to medical at the tower,” Natasha confirmed, kneeling down to keep an eye on Tony’s breathing. He seemed fine, but they knew he could be bleeding internally. He most likely was. With all that weight crashing down on him, it’d be a miracle if he wasn’t._

_Steve could hear the others closeby, talking about who-knows-what, and, fuck, he was getting Tony to install som fail-safe of sorts in case anything like this happened again. A button, or something, to get him out of the suit if it shut down._

_“Don’t jostle him too much,” Natasha told him when the last piece of metal was thrown away._

_“I know,” Steve breathed out, lifting Tony into his arms as carefully as he could manage. He was terrified of making anything worse, and walked slowly over to the ambulance, even though every primal instinct in him told him to sprint._

_It was when they cut his shirt open and threw it away, that Steve choked on his own spit. Tony’s arms were… not right. They didn’t look broken. More like someone had gone to town on them with a meat tenderizer._ His hands _. Everything Tony was passionate about, he used his hands for. He liked playing piano when it was just the two of them._

* * *

“How much do you remember?” Steve asked calmly, running his fingers comfortingly through Tony’s hair.

“My… You were telling me to get out.” Tony couldn’t stop looking at his unsteady hands, so Steve grabbed hold of them instead.

“I did, yeah,” Steve confirmed in a whisper.

“I’m guessing I didn’t listen.”

Steve shook his head. “There were people in there, so I don’t know why I expected you to,” Steve smiled sadly. “It collapsed. You were… Your suit saved you, but you were crushed.”

“And the people?” Tony asked, lips pressed together.

“They didn’t make it,” Steve informed him sadly. “You did everything you could.”

“Fuck,” Tony breathed, and looked back down at the way his fingers wouldn’t settle. “My hands,” he whispered, his eyes wide and scared as he looked up at Steve.

Doctor Walker cleared her throat. “We couldn’t know for sure until you woke up how bad it was, but, unfortunately, you have nerve damage in both of your arms. More specifically, we believe you have motor-sensory neuropathy. I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.”

“What… what does that mean?” Steve choked out, still holding onto Tony’s hands.

“It means that the motor functions are weakened. It could mean muscle weakness, cramping, but other than twitching, we don’t know yet. The sensory part has to do with being able to feel vibrations and touch, and… coordinating movements needed to, for example, button a shirt.”

“Can I go home?” Tony asked, staring blankly in front of himself.

“Not yet. You fractured three ribs, had a ruptured spleen, and were bleeding internally when you got here,” Walker informed him kindly, yet her voice was firm.

“Oh.”

* * *

“Captain, I believe Sir needs your assistance,” Jarvis sounded, pulling Steve away from the sketch he was working on of the view from their living room.

“With what?” Steve inquired skeptically. He could tell Tony hadn’t asked for help. This was Jarvis reaching out to Steve for help that he couldn’t provide. He’d learned the past few weeks that trying to help Tony with _anything_ , even when his hands were trembling so badly that he could barely contain a grip, was not helpful in the slightest.

“He’s attempting to replace his Arc Reactor.”

“Fucking christ,” Steve muttered, hurrying to get downstairs. The workshop wasn’t locked, and he had a suspicion Jarvis was to thank for that. “Tony,” he breathed out when he saw his fiancé lying shirtless, halfway reclined, fingers involuntarily tapping against his Arc Reactor as he tried to get a steady grip.

“Jarvis, I said I was _fine_ ,” Tony muttered, and only spared Steve a second-long glance.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but my priority is your safety. As is Captain Rogers’ too, I assume.”

“It is,” Steve agreed, and walked over to Tony, placing a warm hand on his stomach as he sat down in the chair next to him. “Let me help you.”

“I can do it.”

“I know. And I’d let you if it wasn’t something that’s literally keeping you alive.”

Tony blinked. “I don’t know who I… Why couldn’t I have lost my fucking legs instead? I’d rather be bound to a wheelchair for the rest of my life if I could just have my _hands_. I build and I fix things, that’s what I do, so what good am I with hands that can’t even button a goddamn shirt. I can’t even-- I can’t even touch you right anymore!”

“Baby. You’re _you_. You’re nothing less _you_ than you were before. I know how much your hands mean to you, and I wish it never happened, but I still love you more and more every day. And you’re brilliant. Nothing can take that away from you,” he soothed him, smiling when he felt Tony cover his hand with both of his own.

“My hands,” Tony said, his bottom lip quivering just a tiny bit. It was what he always said when he didn’t know what he was feeling, but Steve always understood.

“I know,” Steve nodded, lifting Tony’s hands up to kiss them before cradling them against his chest.


End file.
